


take a sip of my secret potion (i'll make you fall in love)

by lightninginabottle0613



Series: lyrical smile, indigo eyes [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (Still), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Halloween, Idiots in Love, Meeting the Family, Smut, Texting, and now here we are, author used a hypothetical halloween party as a plot device in the previous fic, simply bc the story takes place in october
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-10 00:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightninginabottle0613/pseuds/lightninginabottle0613
Summary: Another steadfast routine was her silent flirtation with Gendry. The number of shared glances was no higher than it had been in the past, but the mood between them had shifted completely. A sly smirk here; a playful brow wiggle there. Eyes lingered longer. Lingered on…other areas.-(Arya and Gendry navigate the recent elevation of their flirtationship, Gendry meets the Starks, and enough Halloween shenanigans ensue to tide us all over until October.)





	1. for a spell that can't be broken, one drop should be enough

**Author's Note:**

> enough people asked for this and who am i kidding, i was never gonna leave these cuties alone for long. picks up right where 'i love you (bless my soul)' left off, so if you haven’t read that yet, i (selfishly) encourage you to do that :)
> 
> title inspired by little mix’s ‘black magic.’ because halloween.
> 
> —
> 
> thank you so much for the warm welcome to the gendrya community. it is seriously the best feeling to be writing again. enjoy some more tooth-rotting fluff.

_-saturday, 10:56 p.m.-_

**arya: **sans. please, PLEASE tell me ur awake

**sansa: **fortunately, i am sound asleep

**arya: **not funny

this is dire

**sansa:** ahhh, i love…NOT being awake. so peaceful

**arya:** you know what? fine. i had great news, very relevant to ur interests

but i would hate to disturb u 

**sansa:** wait holy fuck 

it’s saturday night im so dumb omg

did you...did something HAPPEN

arYa

**arya: **hm?

**sansa:** IM AWAKE

**arya: **shhh shh sh go back to sleep

**sansa:** IM AWAKE IM SORRY PLS 

**arya:** there, there. just a bad dream. its ok :*

**sansa:** im screaming

will be in ur bed waiting to debrief when u get home, so dont LUNGE at me ok im not an intruder

never sleeping again. omfg

**arya:** so cute when u sleep talk :-)

(also thank u for the heads up, im glad u learned ur lesson from last time. honestly)

___

The rest of Arya’s shift that night passed by in a series of familiar vignettes. The usual gaggle of girls from her Faith of the Seven seminar came parading in around 11:30, and they quickly monopolized the small dance floor, as always. She knew to start being hyper-vigilant shortly after midnight, as some of the other bars down the street began to let out, and a few of their rowdier patrons trickled in to continue their weekend debauchery. And around quarter to one, she tossed the last of the pita chips into a bowl and brought them out to the bar to share with Meera while they started to clean up for the night.

Another steadfast routine was her silent flirtation with Gendry. The number of shared glances was no higher than it had been in the past, but the mood between them had shifted completely. A sly smirk here; a playful brow wiggle there. Eyes lingered longer. Lingered on…other areas.

He and his friend (_Hot Pie? Putting a pin in that for now._) usually slid out around 12:30, after a few baskets of breadsticks, more than enough beer between the two of them, and endless spells of raucous laughter. Tonight, half-past midnight went by without that sinking feeling in Arya’s stomach that generally accompanied the idea of Gendry leaving her vicinity. Instead, she witnessed his friend rise from the booth alone, fling on his jacket, and fist bump Gendry wittingly before heading for the exit.

Before Arya knew it, it was time for last call, and she could count the remaining customers on one hand. Gendry had stopped returning her amorous glances - mostly because he could barely keep his eyes open. She could do nothing but smile fondly.

“We charge a hefty boarding fee, you know,” Arya called out as she ambled over to where he sat, slumped over the table with his head in his hands.

Gendry turned, shaken out of near-sleep, and smiled boyishly. “Do you take other forms of payment? I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Arya sputtered in feigned insult.

Gendry held his hands up. “Woah, I just meant I could wash dishes or something. What did you think I meant? Perv,” he smirked.

She could only roll her eyes. She already did that ‘too much’ according to Robb, but the action seemed to pick up in frequency whenever she talked to Gendry. He didn’t seem to mind.

Arya took the seat across from him in the booth, breathing out a sigh of relief as she realized it was the first time that she had been off her feet all evening. “That’s a quick wit for someone I just saw fading in and out of consciousness. What are you still doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Sap.”

“Can you blame me? _Lady Stark,_” he added, cheekily.

Arya giggled, but her confidence faltered. She hadn’t been trying to _hide_ who she was from Gendry, _necessarily_. It was bound to come up eventually. _I mean, you invited him to your bloody house, and what? Expected him to meet your family and not figure it out? _Even so, she had worked so hard on crafting her identity as ‘just Arya,’ that she couldn’t help but crave anonymity. She loved her family, and the recent loss of her parents had brought the Stark siblings even closer than before, but her surname was, by far, the least interesting thing about her. This thing she had going with Gendry was pure; untainted by any of the pressures that normally weighed her down. She wished she could wrap it up and keep it safely in her pocket, just for her.

“Yeah, hey, sorry if that’s weird for you. I understand if you don’t wanna come. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t have been a secret for long if you didn’t find out tonight. I never know how to bring up something like that, though. I just, I really like you, and I definitely don’t wanna freak you out, so if you-“

Her rambling was interrupted by Gendry’s hand reaching across the table and grabbing hers, squeezing it lightly. “_Arya._ I’m fine. I promise. I’m just teasing you.”

“Are you sure? I have, like…a _lot_ of brothers.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’m aware. I’m just wondering how I was daft enough not to piece this all together sooner. I mean, I remember…” Gendry quietly trailed off, knowing that Arya would understand what he meant.

Anyone would understand. The Stark family was prominent enough as it was, but anyone who had lived within a hundred miles of Winterfell in the past year knew about the accident that had taken the lives of the Chief Justice and his wife. The news coverage following the tragedy focused heavily on the couple’s surviving children and how they would carry on their parents’ legacy - mainly by running their non-profit and maintaining the family estate, with the ‘eldest son’ even entering the political scene himself.

Arya was honestly surprised that Gendry hadn’t recognized Sansa, if anything - the taller sister had appeared in several public interviews as one of the future faces of The Stark Foundation, a position she would assume after her upcoming graduation in the spring. But Arya herself had purposely kept a low profile when it came to the media - she knew they had referenced her by name, but that was as much as she was comfortable with. She wanted control over who recognized her, so she didn’t blame Gendry for not making the connection.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly. His insistently warm gaze slowly coaxed her confidence out of hiding. “Right, now you have to tell me something. It’s only fair.”

“Something like what?”

“A secret. Duh.”

“That’s really putting me on the spot.”

“Come on, there’s gotta be something.”

“I mean, I could quite literally even the playing field and just tell you _my_ last name.”

“That’s so boring, Gendry Waters.”

“Excuse me?! How the bloody-“

“My sister is Sansa Stark, social media sleuth extraordinaire. And, also, it’s on your shirt,” Arya said, pointing to the area where his cotton t-shirt covered his heart, where “Waters, #3” was crookedly stitched.

Gendry blushed and glanced down, smiling sheepishly. “Right.”

“So, which is it? Rowing team? Long-distance running? Gods, _please_ don’t tell me you play golf,” she teased.

“None of the above,” Gendry said, still looking down at the table and playing with his hands. “It’s lame.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Gendry looked up at the affection in Arya’s voice. She was ragging him, sure. But she wanted him to sense the deep sincerity in her tone. She wanted him to discern that if he truly did not want to tell her, she wouldn’t hold it against him. For someone who had dealt with expectations her whole life, she had become a self-proclaimed expert in not placing them on other people.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I grew up in a foster home. My mum had me when she was eighteen, and she took care of me on her own for the first five years of my life. She worked, like, a million jobs and always made sure I had what I needed. She was the best. My dad was never in the picture, and she didn’t have any family, so it was just the two of us, until she got sick. She died the day after my fifth birthday.”

Arya suddenly became aware that her hand was still tucked in Gendry’s grasp, and she was rubbing circles along the back with her thumb. She brought her other hand down to where their hands were joined, so she could completely cover his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I wish I remembered her more than I do. And I wish I _didn’t_ remember her teaching me how to call emergency services, just in case she never woke up. We couldn’t afford any kind of specialized healthcare, so she died at home. The next thing I knew, I was being taken to a home on the other side of the city, and I lived there until I turned eighteen.”

Despite the gravity of the story, Arya smiled at the notion that he was able to stay in one place for the duration of his childhood. “Your voice got lighter when you said that last bit. Whoever took care of you must be really special.”

Gendry grinned fondly. “It took a village, for sure. My foster parents are the best people I know. More than that, though, I got to grow up with a big family. And that was a gift I never thought I’d get.”

He smirked and looked down at his shirt, using his free hand to tug on the collar. “We all gave ourselves safety numbers, for when we’d be out and about with mum and dad. They were more than capable of keeping track of the lot of us, so it was more just fun for us. We liked to count off. Hence,” he finished, finally peeking back up at Arya. “My sister Bella had these made for Christmas last year.”

Arya lifted his hand that was still burrowed between hers, and she kissed his knuckles lightly. “You didn’t have to tell me all of that.”

“I know,” he sighed, his hand uncurling from her grip to cup her cheek. “Wanted to.”

“Well, at least now I’m not the only one with an intimidatingly big family. Kinda takes some of the pressure off, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, yes, be very afraid. Davos will hug you so tight, your bones will break. And Marya? She’ll force-feed you so many baked goods, you’ll probably explode. I’d be worried for your life.”

Arya tittered and leaned into his palm. She had a feeling her erratic heartbeat in this moment was much more of a cause for concern than his family.

Sandor banged his fist on the bar top, causing Arya to snap out of it and look around. They were the only three people left in the building. “Alright! Enough with the soft shit. You don’t have to go home, but you sure as fuck can’t stay here.”

She turned back to look at Gendry, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Nah, Hot Pie called an Uber. I’m just out front. But I wanna walk you to yours.” Arya raised an eyebrow. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he conceded. “I’d just prefer to give you a proper goodbye without your boss looking over here like he wants me drawn and quartered.”

Words continued to escape her. She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s go, stupid.”

___

“So, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you be- Oh, fuck!” Arya groaned and held her hand in her hands.

“What?”

“I completely forgot. I promised my little brother I would watch his swim meet. I’m so sorry.”

Gendry looked slightly distressed, but smiled softly, nonetheless. “Hey, no need to apologize. I’ll see you Friday, right?”

“Are you free before that? I kinda don’t feel like waiting that long.”

“Ah, who’s the sap now, m’lady?” Gendry teased, slinking his arms around Arya’s waist. She stood with her back against the driver’s side door of her car but allowed him to pull her by the hips to stand flush against his chest.

“Still you,” she replied, tilting her head up to meet his lips halfway.

They continued this way for several minutes, each kiss like a fight for dominance that both seemed perfectly content to lose. Gendry pulled back to see Arya’s eyes still closed, lips still puckered, as if she was attempting to savor the feeling of his mouth for as long as possible. His heart was fit to burst.

“I think the next time I’m free is Thursday, unfortunately. But I’m available any time that day.”

“That’s actually brilliant. Why don’t you come by around 4:00? You can show me how good you are with those hands.”

His eyes widened. “Are you-“

“Woah, I just meant you could help us set up for the party. What did you think I meant? Perv,” she said mockingly, batting her eyelashes.

“You’ll be the death of me, Stark.”

“You should be so lucky.”

She reached up for one last kiss, deepening it as she tugged on his hair and nipping lightly on his bottom lip. Once she had him sufficiently flustered, she slid both of her hands delicately down his neck to his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes to chastely peck his nose, and gave his biceps a final squeeze.

“Thursday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Arya turned to open her car door and rolled her window down as she buckled in. “Oh, but obviously I’ll text you before then, though.”

Gendry chuckled, startled by how such a casual sentence could make his head feel so cloudy. “Obviously.”

Arya threw the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and tossed a peace sign out the open window. “Catch ya later, Waters.”

He rolled his eyes. He had done that more in the past week than ever before. “You’re lame, Stark. Drive safe.”

___

_-sunday, 2:37 a.m.- _

**arya:** thought u would wanna know that i made it home safe & sound, only accidentally ran two stop signs

was distracted thinking about u <3

**gendry:** i don’t know if i should be flattered or terrified

**arya:** both, definitely both always

**gendry:** had to think about it for a second but yep that’s hot

**arya:** ;)

now shoo, i need to go tell sansa about how dreamy you are

**gendry:** as you wish m’lady

___

_-sunday, 3:16 p.m._-

**gendry:** shift is almost over and i gotta say...not a fan of the two people who have commandeered your corner

not NEARLY as pretty. & neither of them morphed into you no matter how often i checked

**arya: **did they at least look back?

**gendry:** no? why would you...want them to...

**arya:** fuckin fools. no idea how good they had it

**gendry:** you are so odd, i like you...so much

**arya:** i’ve known ur name for a week and i already like u better than most people

**gendry:** is that all it’s been? it feels like years. even though i guess i know actually next to nothing about you

**arya:** S A P

ok well let’s learn then

first question, very important

dogs or cats

**gendry:** easy, dogs

**arya:** thank gods. we have six

___

_-monday, 1:33 p.m.- _

**arya:** what’s ur sign

**gendry: **sorry?

**arya: **ur zodiac sign

**gendry:** oh. i have no idea

**arya:** omg how-

when is your birthday gendry

**gendry:** 10 may

**arya:** hahahahahahaha

wow should’ve known. BIG taurus energy

**gendry:** gonna pretend i know what that means and move on

when’s yours?

**arya:** 14 november

**gendry:** google says you’re a scorpio?

**arya: **oh, baby u bet i am

___

_-monday, 9:55 p.m.-_

**gendry:** favorite movie

**arya: **the legend of acorn hall, no question

**gendry:** wow…how does it feel to be my absolute dream girl

___

_-tuesday, 12:12 p.m.-_

**arya: **thoughts on reality tv

**gendry: **i mean, i don’t NOT keep real housewives of dorne on in the background while i make breakfast in the morning

**arya: **perfect. actually perfect

what time is breakfast usually

**gendry:** usually like 7

**arya:** oh, on second thought we…might have some issues

___

_-wednesday, 10:59 p.m.-_

**gendry:** you’re stranded on a desert island and you can only have three things, what are they

**arya:** ok i’ve thought a lot about this

a knife, obviously

**gendry:** obviously

**arya:** a slightly longer knife, technically more like a sword i guess, but still small enough to carry around easily

**gendry:** right…

**arya:** and a quiver of arrows. i can make a bow out of materials on the island

**gendry: **so just…three different weapons, that’s all you would want

**arya:** oh honey. that’s all i would *need*

___

_-thursday, 1:27 a.m.-_

**arya: **ok i get it, but if you HAD to pick

**gendry: **fine, if i had to pick, i would rather never know how to use utensils than never know how to read

that…feels like a given

not even sure where on earth that question came from or how we got on this subject

**arya:** just roll with it

**gendry:** more than happy to

___

Thursday at 4:00 took its sweet time to roll around, in Gendry’s humble opinion. He had spent all week barely sleeping a wink, taking advantage of every spare minute he had between work and classes to talk to Arya. It seemed like the floodgates had been opened after their first kiss, and all either of them cared about was making up for lost time. To him, Arya was the most enticing, exhilarating puzzle, and he felt a jolt of electricity straight to his core every time he found another two pieces that fit together. He tried to express this feeling during one late-night conversation, after which she had simply rolled her eyes (via emoji) and told him not to ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ her. It only made him fall harder, and he couldn’t wait to be around her again.

Now, though, he found himself idling in his car outside the wrought-iron gate of Winterfell Manor, taking several deep breaths, and wishing he had just a few more minutes to mentally prepare himself for what was waiting on the other side. Arya had already assured him that she was not the type to allow her brothers to be overly protective and defend her honor (her exact words were, ‘If you hurt me, I’ll just gut you myself’ - another quip that made him feel positively lightheaded), and he knew that Sansa was basically already planning her maid-of-honor speech for their wedding. (_Does not freak me out as much as I would think it would,_ he thought.) Still, he wanted the Starks to know how quickly Arya had become one of the most important people in his life, and he wanted them to think of him as even remotely worthy of her.

Finally, Gendry bit the bullet and pulled all the way up the winding driveway to park where Arya had directed him, behind the Jeep he recognized as hers. His stomach flipped as he remembered her leaning against its door, pressed fervently against him. He marveled at the sprawling landscape before him as he made his way to the front door, suddenly second-guessing his decision to dress casually, despite Arya’s insistence that they would all be in sweatpants. He took one final deep breath and rang the doorbell.

The sound seemed to incite chaos from inside the house. Various dogs began barking at different registers, and Gendry could make out several pairs of footsteps rushing to get to the door first. He heard what he thought was Arya’s voice scream something unintelligible from a floor above the entryway, as the door flew open.

Gendry was face to face with Arya in male form. _Her favorite brother, Jon. _The dark-haired man reached out a hand in greeting.

“Jon. You must be Gendry.”

“That’s me. It’s nice to meet you. Arya speaks very highly of you,” Gendry said nervously, returning the handshake.

Jon chuckled. “Likewise. It’s pretty cute, actually.” He leaned in and quickly muttered, “Don’t tell her I called her cute. She hates that.”

“Already made that mistake once. I wouldn’t dare.” Gendry decided he liked Jon.

“Gendry!” a female voice (_not Arya’s_) rang out from his left, right before its owner came into view. _A familiar face - Sansa. _She was pushing a younger-looking boy in a wheelchair (_Bran_, he remembered), and she was followed closely by a taller man with wide-set eyes and a mess of curls. He didn’t recognize that one.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sansa exclaimed, launching herself toward him for a hug, which he reciprocated as casually as he could. When she pulled back, she was wearing the same grin he recalled from the day he gave Arya his phone number. That memory, and the reminder that Arya was, indeed, somewhere in this house, made him relax significantly.

“This is our brother, Bran. And this is Theon.”

“Excuse me? You’re not gonna introduce me as your brother, too? I’m just ‘Theon’?”

“I didn’t realize brothers were allowed to flirt so shamelessly with their sisters.”

“You’ll be sorry, Sans. One day I’ll be rich and famous, and you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m already rich and famous, thanks. Moron,” Sansa said, somehow humbly, despite the words themselves.

Gendry cleared his throat timidly. His default setting around new people was awkward and uncomfortable, let alone people as high-profile as the Starks. This self-awareness was one reason that he knew Arya was different from the moment he laid eyes on her. She had the opposite effect - he didn’t think he could ever possibly get enough of her. And his current scenario had a _considerable_ lack of Arya.

Bran looked up at Gendry for the first time and snorted. “Guys, I get the feeling he’s not here to see us. Someone go and get Arya before he collapses.”

“I’m on it,” Jon replied, patting Gendry on the shoulder before darting up the winding staircase directly in front of them. Toward the back of the first floor, the sound of a door slamming caused everyone to jump, and two more people (_Robb and Rickon_, he could only assume) appeared in the foyer, looking like they just finished up a particularly aggressive football match. Sansa stepped away from Bran’s chair, prepared to make introductions.

“Gendry, this is Rickon,” she said, gesturing toward the younger, muddier boy. “And this is Robb.” The eldest brother reached out his hand, much like Jon had done a few minutes earlier, but his face was much more serious. Gendry knew he had seen him on television recently, in light of his recent judicial election campaign announcement. He wished it were a bit more disarming to see that same man in front of him in an old band t-shirt and gym shorts, but he was still properly intimidated.

“Gendry, good to meet you. My sister seems quite taken with you after such a short time,” Robb said, narrowing his eyes slightly to test Gendry’s reaction.

“If anyone’s taken, it’s me. Trust me,” Gendry replied. At this, Robb seemed to soften, albeit minutely. Out of the corner of his eye, he was comforted to see Sansa and Bran smiling warmly.

Rickon sauntered forward and leaned in toward Gendry’s chest. He inhaled deeply and stepped back, looking up at him derisively. Gendry saw the resemblance between him and Arya instantly.

“You don’t smell that intoxicating to me.”

“Rickon!” Sansa shrieked. She marched over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from where Gendry stood shell-shocked. “How much did you hear?!”

“I heard enough,” Rickon laughed, throwing a wink toward Gendry. The idea of Arya describing _any_ aspect of him as ‘intoxicating’ overpowered any potential embarrassment in that moment. That, and the fact that the young woman in question had just materialized (_like a literal angel_) at the top of the staircase.

“Oh, good. You’ve met everyone.”

Arya bounded down the stairs two at a time, and her childish gait made Gendry smile wider than he had since stepping into the mansion. She stopped in front of Gendry and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt at his waist. “Look at you, still breathing, still standing. I told you they wouldn’t kill you.”

Ironically, he was finding it very difficult to both breathe and stand, considering how close she was hovering between his feet. He continued to smile down at her. “Well, I’ve just learned that you think I smell - what was the word? Intoxicating?” he confirmed jokingly, glancing over at Rickon, who gave him another knowing wink.

“_You’re_ rude. And dead,” Arya said, glaring at her brother pointedly. “But, he’s not wrong,” she added, looking back up at Gendry and giving him a wink of her own.

“Okay!” Robb shouted, clapping his hands together. “What do you say we move this situation into the kitchen? Before I get vertigo.”

“Will you relax? Good gods,” Sansa chided, continuing to mumble to him under her breath as they disappeared into the kitchen to the left.

Gendry made to follow the rest of the family, but Arya tightened her grip on his shirt and tugged him in the other direction. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Your brother already doesn’t trust me.”

“Oh, don’t pay attention to Robb. He’s just miserable, because he’s been lusting over Meera for a year and has been too chicken-shit to do anything about it.” She led them into an office (appearing to belong to the brother under discussion) on the other side of the foyer and clicked the door shut behind him.

“Are any of your siblings _not_ into people you work with?” he asked, as he moved toward where she had perched herself on the edge of the desk.

“Thankfully, it’s just the two. Although, Bran just started dating Meera’s brother, so he half-counts, I guess.”

Gendry shook his head and laughed. He halted between her legs and placed a hand on each thigh. “How long do you suspect we have before someone comes looking for us?”

Arya trailed her hands up his arms to rest at the back of his neck. “Probably a few minutes.”

“One of these times, I’m gonna get more than a few minutes with you, Stark. Mark my words,” he murmured before capturing her lips fiercely.

She met his kiss with equal fervor, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard her sigh contentedly. She began to tangle her hands in his hair, squeezing handfuls between her fingers as his mouth moved from her lips, down her jawline, and onto her neck. He let out a low moan when her hips undulated toward his, and he pressed himself even closer to her. He could feel his jeans getting tighter against her inner thigh, and he knew she felt it, too, when she began trailing one hand down his back and around his waist, to rest right above his center. Gendry pulled back, eyes half-lidded, and he was met with a look of consonant desire.

Without breaking eye contact, Arya slowly ghosted her hand over his bulge. “Fuck,” he hissed, closing his eyes. He allowed himself a moment of uninterrupted bliss as she continued to stroke while punctuating soft kisses to his chest over his shirt. Suddenly, he became very aware of his current location, and he audibly groaned as he stepped away.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, his voice coming out more hoarsely than he expected.

Arya swung her legs back and forth from her roost on the desk. She leaned back to admire her handiwork and smirked. “If I can get you that heated in just a few minutes, I am _very_ much looking forward to getting more.”

“Death. Of. Me.”

“Do you need a minute?”

Gendry looked around the room briefly, taking in the various photos of Robb with his professional contemporaries. Once again painfully conscious of whose office he was in, he answered, “No, you know what, I’m good.”

“Good. Let’s go drink beer and hang fake cobwebs.”


	2. boy you belong to me, i got the recipe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes for context:
> 
> \- i went back and forth for a while, but gendry is not a baratheon in this universe. i wanted to focus more on his solid relationship with davos and marya and his foster siblings as a ‘band of misfits’ type of family, rather than introduce robert into the picture. especially because ned isn’t alive. the baratheons/lannisters do exist, there’s just no relation to gendry. consider his ‘not in the picture’ dad as just a regular old deadbeat lol
> 
> \- theon and jon have the same relationship to the starks as they do in the books/show, but they were always treated as starks. just noting this here, since it hasn't really been specified thus far
> 
> \- ages:
> 
> Robb & Theon - 26  
Jon & Gendry - 25  
Sansa - 22  
Arya - 21  
Bran - 19  
Rickon - 16

“That is _not_ what happened!” Arya shrieked amidst her siblings’ boisterous laughter.

“Arya, we were all there,” Sansa said, wiping away tears of mirth. “You threatened to fight our father’s best friend. A grown man.”

“I believe the exact words were, ‘Square up, punk,’” Robb added, significantly more laid-back now that he had a few drinks in him.

“What kind of seven-year-old tells someone to ‘square up’? What were you, in a gang?” Gendry asked, looking down to where Arya sat next to him on the couch.

The group had settled into the spacious family room, directly off of the kitchen, and four boxes of different kinds of pizza had been haphazardly passed around. Arya had raised an eyebrow at Gendry when he went for the pineapple-covered pizza, the one that they typically ordered exclusively for Theon. (“We’ll discuss this later, you freak,” she had said, with affected seriousness.) They had spent the past two hours decorating the mansion’s expansive lower level for the upcoming party, still with seemingly endless amounts to accomplish, and they had collectively decided a recharge was in order.

Arya had plopped down on the cushion next to Gendry and huddled close to his side without a second thought, but she had blushed when he had moved his arm to sprawl across the headrest directly behind her, encircling her and lightly brushing the back of her neck. The fact that he already felt comfortable enough to be affectionate with her around her family made her insides pleasantly warm.

“The ugly fucker was making fun of Jon,” Arya grumbled, tossing a piece of half-eaten crust into one of the empty boxes. She peered up at Gendry in mock-offense. “And maybe I was in a gang. You don’t know.”

“Oh yeah? Did you guys have hand signs?”

“We sure did,” she retorted, flipping him off with both middle fingers. He grinned widely and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. She poorly suppressed a giggle and burrowed further into his side.

“I would’ve personally paid big money to see you kick the shit out of Robert Baratheon,” Rickon piped up. “Still would, too.”

“I think that would make the upcoming campaign a little uncomfortable, Rick,” Robb replied. His crusade to win an associate justice seat on Winterfell’s Supreme Court was about to kick off, and their late father’s longtime friend held an integral position in the federal judiciary of Westeros. Ned and Robert had met at boarding school as kids, eventually attended law school together, and nearly became brothers-in-law when Robert was dating their aunt. As far as all of the Stark children were concerned, that was a bullet successfully dodged.

“Oh, please. He would still like you just fine. You’ve always been his favorite Stark,” Theon teased.

“I might be named after him, but _that_ honor goes to Arya. Spitting image of Aunt Lyanna,” Robb bit back. “The creep,” he muttered, taking another swig of pumpkin ale.

“I always thought dad was the smartest person I ever knew,” mused Bran. “And then he’d hang out with Robert, and you just…had to wonder.”

“Yeah, mum and dad had some horrid-ass friends. Remember Petyr?” Arya asked, nudging Sansa with her foot where she sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“Oh, gods,” Sansa groaned, cradling her head in her hands. “Don’t remind me. I think I showered four times the day after that one Christmas party.”

“How about mum’s friend from uni that used to babysit you and Arya?” Jon asked Sansa. “What was her name again?”

“Ugh. _Linda Mordane,_” Arya scoffed. She shifted a bit to angle toward Gendry and looked at him to explain. “She was obsessed with trying to get Sansa and me into pageants when we were, like, four and five.” Gendry snorted, looking between the two sisters. “Don’t look at _me_. Sansa’s the one who actually did it.”

“Hey!” Sansa yelled curtly. “Only for a few years. It got a bit too ‘Toddlers in Tiaras’ for dad’s taste, I think. The little dresses were cute, though.”

“Not your style, eh?” Gendry teased, glancing down at Arya with a smirk.

“I know, I’ll give you a second to recover from the shock,” Arya replied dryly. She grew quiet and shifted again where she sat, this time out of apparent discomfort. “Plus, Linda always used to say my hands were too much like a little boy’s, anyway. Always had dirt under my fingernails, always scraped up from playing outside.”

Seeming to forget that there were other people in the room, Gendry instinctively used his free arm to reach across his lap toward Arya. He picked up one of her hands, instantly dwarfing it in his own. He pretended to examine it methodically.

“These soft little things?”

Arya’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips softly to her knuckles. He left his mouth there for a beat, inhaling and exhaling, locking his eyes onto hers. Gendry was the one marveling at her, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was the one in awe.

“Gross. Get a room,” Rickon chaffed.

“Please, please don’t get a room,” Robb said, shaking his head.

“Well, _I_ support whatever you wanna do,” Sansa announced, standing up to brush some pizza crust crumbs off of her yoga pants. “I’ve been the captain of this damn ship for two bloody months, and I am more than ready to hand over the wheel.”

“You all know it’s been…less than two weeks, right?” Arya asked incredulously, looking around at her siblings. Her new sitting position belied her attempt at indifference - her legs were thrown over Gendry’s lap, and the hand he had just kissed was playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I was with Ygritte for three days before I knew she was the one,” said Jon, wistfully.

“You guys are so embarrassing,” Arya whined, moving to stand so she could help clear off the coffee table. “Why can’t any of you ever be chill?”

“Should I tell the Robert story again, and then we can talk about who is and isn’t chill?” Sansa asked with a wink.

Arya huffed dramatically. “Come on, Gendry. We don’t have to take this.” She reached out her hand and pulled him up to stand next to her. She began to lead him out of the family room, presumably to continue decorating.

Gendry glanced back at her family over his shoulder and shrugged.

“Happy wife, happy life.” Everyone applauded at the growing scowl on Arya’s face.

“Yes! Yes, Gendry!” Theon cheered, pumping his fist in the air. Even Robb cracked an approving grin.

____

After spending less than half an hour with the Starks, Gendry had kicked himself for even thinking about being nervous. He was always the first to admit that he went through life with a chip on his shoulder, but, in this case, it went far beyond his general pessimism. He came from humble beginnings - _extremely_ humble. ‘Only owning four shirts throughout the entirety of the third grade’ humble. His insecurities were not conscious; they were instinctual. And his first ‘instinct’ when he learned about Arya’s upbringing was to run as fast as he could.

But then he had found himself telling her about his childhood. His late mother. _His_ brothers and sisters. His entire ragtag family. They had traded stories all week over the phone about favorite childhood games, pranks they had pulled on their older sisters, times they used to sneak out of their parents’ houses to go to parties in places they probably shouldn’t have been. He had learned that her father had been just like Davos - kind, even-tempered, and ethical - and her mother had been just like Marya - the stricter parent, but strong, exceedingly generous, and warm. He was astonished by how quickly his awareness of status faded with each conversation - and, what’s more, how it never seemed to have existed in the first place for Arya.

The love he could feel within the walls of Winterfell Manor was palpable. Arya and her siblings certainly knew how to push each other’s buttons, a fact that had been made perfectly clear throughout his visit so far. But he saw it in the way one of them was always close to Bran, just in case he needed help getting somewhere; he saw it in the way they all grew stone-faced, some clenching their fists subconsciously and others flaring their nostrils, when Sansa told a story involving her abusive ex-boyfriend; and he saw it in the way that, despite Arya’s insistence that she did not need protecting, they all kept a subtle eye on him during his first hour in the house, carefully measuring his behavior toward their sister and considering her subsequent reactions. The Starks would wage wars for one another, and he would recognize that kind of love anywhere. It knew no status.

“If I fall and die, you are fully responsible. I hope you know that.”

Gendry snapped out of his meditation and remembered his current bearings. He was supposed to be spotting Arya while she pinned up the last of the party decor - a large banner in the center of the entryway that read, ‘HERE FOR THE BOOS.’

“Sorry. Just thinking.” He tightened his grip on her hips from where he stood behind her, as she secured the pennant in place. She turned on the stool to face him, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders. He laughed when she leapt down into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso and trusting him to catch her, rather than letting him lift her to the floor.

“Thank you for helping today,” Arya whispered against his mouth, brushing his nose lightly with hers. “You fit right in here.”

“Something tells me I’d fit in anywhere with you, Stark,” he whispered back, pressing an innocent kiss on her lips.

“Is that an innuendo?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“A girl can dream.”

“A girl definitely _should_ dream,” he replied wickedly, leaning in for a deeper kiss. Without breaking apart, she slid down his body to plant her feet back on the ground and wound her arms around his middle, his hands coming up to run through her hair. Arya dipped her tongue between his lips, and his heart hammered in his chest. Daring to make the most of their moment alone before someone walked into the open foyer, he ran one of his hands down her back to palm her ass, giving it a light squeeze and using the leverage to pull her closer. She moaned deliriously into his next kiss and pushed her center against his thigh. Reluctantly, he stepped back at the sound of approaching footsteps, but not without one final squeeze.

“Jerk,” Arya snarled, smoothing out her hair and adjusting her shirt.

“Payback,” Gendry teased, doing the same. 

“Alright!” Sansa announced, as she entered the room from the kitchen, Rickon and Theon closely at her heels. “I think we’re done! Nice work, team.”

“Think mum and dad would be proud?” Arya asked, looked around to admire their design.

“Probably, like, ten fewer alcohol puns, and we could consider their tradition officially carried on,” Jon joked, strolling in from the opposite side with Robb. 

“I think it looks great. They’d be very proud,” Gendry said sincerely, smiling down at Arya and looking up to convey the same warmth to the rest of the group.

“And we got it done in record time, too,” Rickon said proudly. “They used to stay up all night getting this shit in order every year.”

“Yeah, well, we had a few extra hands on deck this time around,” Arya pointed out, bending her knee inward to swiftly kick Gendry’s backside from where she stood next to him.

“Glad I could put them to good use,” Gendry murmured for only Arya to hear. She kicked him again, a bit harder.

“I’m off to bed, you lot,” Robb declared, already a quarter of the way up the staircase. “Gendry, it was nice to meet you. Children, I will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Your Majesty,” Arya countered, bowing theatrically, as Theon lumbered up the steps behind him (“‘Children?’ I’m the same age as you.” “I know. It’s terrifying.”)

She turned to Gendry. “Let me walk you out.” He said his goodbyes to the rest of the gang, still hardly believing that it had only been a number of hours since he first met most of them, before grabbing his jacket and Arya’s hand to walk toward the front door.

“Thinking about what?” she asked, as they passed over the threshold and approached his car.

“Hm?”

“Before, when you were spotting me. You said you were thinking. What were you thinking about?”

They came to a stop at his driver’s side door, Gendry moving to lean against it, like Arya had the night of their first kiss. He stood with his feet several inches apart, his stance wide enough for her to stand between them.

“You.” 

“Yeah, right.”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Gendry laughed.

“No. I’m pretty cool,” she retorted with a wink, mimicking what he had said to her at the bar. “Just seemed like there was something else on your mind.” 

Gendry took a deep breath, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He kept his hand there to fiddle with her hoops. 

“I was thinking about how grateful I felt to be accepted so easily by all of you.” He shrugged. “Made me feel good.”

Arya twisted her head to kiss the inside of his wrist and grabbed onto the lapels of his coat. “‘Course we would accept you. We’re like a wolf pack. Friend of one of us is a friend of all of us. You’re pack now, too.”

“Friend, huh?” he smirked, choosing sarcasm over acknowledgement of the deep emotions he felt at the weight of her words.

“Hey, it was only two short weeks ago that you were just my hot barista. I’d say if you keep playing your cards right, you’ll continue to rise in the ranks pretty quickly.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, m’lady.” He moved his hand from her ear to the back of her head, pulling her face toward his. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek, another to the juncture of her ear and jaw, and another lower still - each torturously slower than the last.

His stubble tickled the vulnerable skin on her neck, and she erupted in a series of giggles, grabbing his face in her hands to guide him back to her lips. She quickly kissed him and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Get out of here, before I never let you leave.”

She eyed him appreciatively as he turned to get in the car, and she smiled when he rolled down his window. The continued parallels from their other night together made her giddy.

“You know, you never told me what you’re dressing up as tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s obviously a surprise,” Arya said.

“Should’ve known.”

“Gotta give you a reason to come back, don’t I?”

“As if I don’t already have several.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

He sighed. “I feel like we could do this all night.”

Arya snorted and ran her hand through her hair. “Don’t tempt me. Get lost, Waters.”

Gendry put his car in reverse and threw her one last smile. “See you tomorrow, Stark.”

____

“Alright, what do we think?” Sansa asked, spreading her arms out like wings and spinning around for emphasis. The sisters were putting finishing touches on their costumes in Arya’s room, as the first of many guests started to filter in downstairs. Theon could already be heard giving two girls his signature tour of Winterfell Manor, which always ended in his own bedroom.

“I think I’m still confused about why you’ve decided to be a sexy dove for Halloween, but I also think you’ve never looked bad in your entire life,” Arya replied without looking up from her desktop mirror, where she sat applying her makeup.

“Sandor will understand.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“He always calls me ‘little bird’ when he sees me at the bar.” Arya wrinkled her nose. “What? Oh, sorry, have I nauseated you, _m’lady_?”

Arya snorted, trying to downplay the blush that swept across her cheeks. “What happened to you being the ‘captain of the ship’?”

“Aye, aye,” Sansa affirmed, moving to stand behind Arya and play with her hair, which fell in loose curls over her shoulders. “And as captain, I’m dying to know where in the seven hells it’s headed.”

“Don’t know. But it’s a sturdy ship. I trust it.”

“Skies clear up ahead, though?”

“Shouldn’t you know that, as the captain?”

“I can’t think of any other sailing jokes. I just want you to be happy.”

Arya set down her eyeliner and looked at her sister for the first time through the small mirror. In truth, her thoughts for the last two weeks had been consumed by exactly one thing, and she hadn’t quite stopped for long enough to notice that she was happier than she’d been in a long time. She typically prided herself on being able to connect with anyone, but turning those connections into worthwhile relationships presented the real challenge. People always seemed intrigued by her lifestyle, her name, her accessibility to such a powerful network. She could easily have that power, too, if she wanted it. She was practically destined for it. But that wasn’t her.

Gendry was as intrigued as the rest of them, but for completely different, _new_ reasons. He was intrigued by her pipe dream of opening a flower shop someday; by her interest in his passion for metalwork, which he claimed no one had ever cared about aside from his family; by the way she worried her bottom lip when she was invested in a story someone was telling. Arya had always known her worth outside of the privileges of her stature, so she didn’t need someone else - let alone a _boy_ \- to open her eyes. Still, it felt nice when someone else saw that. Refreshing. Like something she hadn’t realized she ever even wanted.

Arya smiled at her sister. “I am very happy.”

“And, to think, I could still be ordering your coffee for you.”

“Yes, thank you, my queen. I bow down at your feet,” Arya rebutted sarcastically.

“I feel like I should be bowing down at yours. You look like you could slit my throat,” Sansa said, as Arya spun around in her swivel chair to stand and straighten out her costume.

Arya grabbed her sword and shield, standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her door to evaluate the need for last-minute adjustments.

“And don’t you forget it,” she winked, brandishing her fake weapon with a raised brow. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand next to her, and the butterflies in her stomach intensified at the sight of Gendry’s name.

** gendry:** my lyft driver found it very hard to believe that i had my destination correct when he dropped me off at the gate

i was like honestly, same dude

but i am here

“Come on,” Sansa said, looping her arm through Arya’s, reclaiming her sister’s attention from where she stood grinning euphorically at her screen. “Let’s go rescue that poor boy before Myranda Royce gets her hands on him.”

____

Gendry silently thanked his nameless father for his height, as he bobbed and weaved with ease through the growing crowd outside of the mansion. Two identical tents - equipped with pong tables, space heaters, and beanbag chairs - had been pitched on either side of the far-reaching front lawn, and there were already enough guests to fully occupy both. He strode toward the front door, cape flowing behind him and eager to get his exposed arms out of the chill. As soon as he entered, he found himself, much like the day before, face to face with Jon.

“Gendry! Good to see you, man,” Jon greeted him, grasping his hand in a quick shake and slightly yelling over the loud bass. “This is my girlfriend, Ygritte.”

Gendry turned his attention to the lithe redhead by Jon’s side. She quirked a sly smile and extended her own hand.

“Leave it to Arya to hit the nail right on the head on her first try. No pun intended,” Ygritte quipped, nodding at the plastic war hammer in Gendry’s other hand. “Took this one years to make a move,” she added, looking back at Jon.

“Thought you said you knew after three days,” Gendry needled.

“Yeah, after an embarrassingly long period of idiocy.”

“That period’s not behind us yet, love,” Ygritte teased, kissing Jon on one cheek and affectionately patting the other.

“Your sister around?” Gendry asked, happy to stay and chat, but even more anxious to see Arya.

“She came down with Sansa just a minute ago. I think they went to get drinks.”

Gendry clapped Jon on the shoulder and nodded politely at Ygritte, before side-stepping the pair and heading toward the kitchen, where he knew the elaborate beverage station was set up. He maneuvered carefully around a pair of black cats in conversation with a poorly made-up Pennywise, and he stopped dead in his tracks, almost colliding with the object of his search. Arya was carrying two bottles of beer (his favorite, he duly noted) by their necks between her fingers, and her other hand gripped the hilt of a pretend sword. She stared back at him - her eyes widened, and she threw her head back, howling with laughter.

“I cannot believe this. You’re Thor. How did I not guess that you would be Thor? I’m such a dumbass.”

Gendry scanned her up and down, taking in her thigh-high boots, her leather gauntlets, her form-fitting bodice of costume armor, and her angular red skirt. His eyes expanded to a similar width. “You’re _Sif_. I wouldn’t have even _known_ to guess that you would be Sif.”

“She’s my favorite Marvel character.”

“She’s Thor’s lover.”

“How convenient,” she grinned flirtatiously. He shivered as she gave him the same full-body examination, seeming to falter on his arms.

“That for me?” he asked, gesturing toward one of the bottles still firm in her grasp.

She blinked rapidly, and her eyes darted back to his, almost surprised that he had spoken. “Oh. Yeah, here.”

He relieved her of one of the bottles and awkwardly twisted off the cap while still holding onto his prop. “Didn’t really think this bit through. I kinda don’t feel like carrying this around all night.”

“Oh, I just wanted you to get the full effect before I leave mine in the coat closet.”

“Mind if I do the same?”

“Not at all,” she replied, grabbing his upper arm to guide him in that direction. “As long as you promise to do some heavy lifting for me later. You know…full effect.”

Gendry shook his head and laughed, in constant disbelief of the woman before him. “Behave, Stark.”

“Not bloody likely.”

____

“You know, so many people say being gay is a choice, and I just wanna ask them - why the fuck would I choose to be in love with _that_ chaotic mess?” Bran sighed, looking categorically at Jojen.

Several hours into the party and a few drinks deep found Arya and Gendry in one of the outside tents with her younger brother, watching a particularly heated, Halloween-themed (in that the cups glowed in the dark and the balls looked like eyeballs) beer pong match between the Reed siblings. Jojen was sporting a pretty revealing Robin costume, crouched low in a concerted attempt to distract his sister, who looked both equally concentrated and equally provocative in her Batman get-up. Meera missed, and Jojen cheered in deranged victory.

“Beer pong is not a game, Bran,” Arya replied sharply, not taking her eyes off the table. She was on deck to go up against the winner.

“It…literally is, though.”

She huffed sharply. “You know what I mean.”

Rapturous applause erupted from Meera’s side of the table, as she made the winning throw, and Jojen fell to his knees in defeat.

“Oh, perfect. We can finally get our rematch from last time,” Arya said delightedly, moving to slide into Jojen’s spot across from her coworker.

“No! No way. I am not playing you,” Meera yelled from the opposite end of the table, rapidly shaking her head in protest.

“What?! Why?!”

“Arya, you nearly took my _head_ off last time.”

“It’s not my fault your reflexes are shit!”

“Love you, I really do, but you’re mental. Go get Rickon to play with you.”

“I am not playing beer pong with my underaged brother,” Arya replied. “On second thought, though, he’s probably the only worthy opponent in this damn family,” she grumbled.

“I’ll play you.”

Meera and Arya both turned their heads toward Gendry, who was lounging with his arms crossed in a pumpkin-shaped beanbag chair that was comically small for his large frame.

“Oh, bud, you don’t know what you’re signing up for,” Meera warned, at the same time that Arya narrowed her eyes and said, “I’m listening.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ll demolish you, Stark,” Gendry challenged, rising out of his seat to tower over her. Arya bent over slightly to rest her hands on the tops of her thighs, breathing deeply. His expression changed to one of concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m good. I am just _winded_ from trying to climb into the mindset of someone who thinks they can beat me at beer pong.”

Gendry glared down at her in silence for a beat, pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek and cocking his head. Then: “Let’s go.”

Meera ran over to take Gendry’s seat, while Jojen moved to stand behind his boyfriend. Bran stared at the display incredulously.

“Gods above. There’s two of them.”

____

Arya sank one in almost instantly, leaning forward with her arms locked and palms spread on the table. “It’s not too late to back out.”

“You fucking wish.”

~

_Plunk._ Point for Gendry. Arya’s nostrils flared.

~

Neither opponent made one in for four consecutive turns. Too distracted by trash talk.

~

Two more points for Gendry. He smirked fiendishly. She stared daggers.

~

Arya caught up, bringing them to a tie. Both of their breathing started to accelerate.

~

One more point for Arya. “Ha!”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

He did just that, scoring two more times.

~

One cup remained on Arya’s side of the table. Up to this point, they had been throwing the balls back and forth so rapidly that they had taken to tossing the cups aside into the grass, rather than drinking them. Now, they both went still.

They had attracted an audience with their intensity, and the whole tent fell silent. Gendry held the pong ball delicately between his thumb and his index finger, practicing its trajectory toward the cup directly in front of Arya. He held it in front of his nose, squinting one eye to ensure absolute precision. He hunched over to aim, yes, but also to be level with Arya, who looked like she was trying to melt his eyes with her mind. She bit her bottom lip in a last-ditch pursuit to fluster him, but he tossed the ball in the air effortlessly, watching as it landed squarely in its target.

The tent rumbled with approbation for Gendry. People he had never met shook him by the shoulders, whacked him on the back, jumped up to ruffle his hair. Bran and the Reeds applauded in shock. But Gendry did not look away from Arya for a single second. Maintaining protracted eye contract, she removed the ball from the last cup standing, lifted the rim to her lips, and downed the drink in four gulps.

The celebration died down, as two new contenders assumed positions on either end of the table. Gendry traipsed over to where Arya stood, still scowling. As he got closer, he could see that she was out of breath - _actually_ winded this time - and her grey eyes were blown out.

Gendry held out his hand for a truce. She continued to stare, and his breathing quickened to match the pace of hers.

“Good game.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What do you think? Back inside to sit for a while?”

She finally accepted his handshake and lowered her voice. “I think I need to go grab something from my bedroom. And I think you should come help me get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, note that slight chapter count bump, sorrrryyyy but also not sorry. i decided i wanted the ~good stuff~ to have more plot than i originally thought lol. still more to come! 
> 
> arya's costume - (https://images.app.goo.gl/kfrHRcs78GUCtJTG7)  
gendry's costume - (https://images.app.goo.gl/XU5kkNvccC4fGETW9)
> 
> i am lightninginabottle0613 on tumblr :)


	3. and it's called black magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *leaves a comment saying ‘ch. 3 will be up in the next couple days’*  
*has literally no self-control at all and posts mere hours later*
> 
> i mentioned in the beginning notes of iwy(bms) that i hadn’t written a fic since 2007, and obviously my 12 year old ass was not writing smut at that time, so this is my first attempt…needless to say, my christian parents would not be pleased, but i hope y’all are. i tried to balance out the smut w equal amounts of fluff, but there’s….a lot of smut lol (maybe not actually a lot, but it definitely felt that way writing it). idk, the rating bump speaks for itself.
> 
> with that, pls enjoy this absolute monster of a final chapter.

It took considerably longer to actually get to Arya’s room than Gendry would’ve preferred.

His eyes had gone dark at her loaded proposition in the tent, and he had done his best not to take her right there on the grass in front of everyone, as she started pulling him toward the house. He barely spared a glance back at Bran, Jojen, and Meera, who were still floored by the spectacle of their near-violent beer pong match. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled weakly hoping that it did not appear as…_erotically charged_ to everyone else as it clearly did for Arya and him. _That would almost be embarrassing, if I could think about literally anything else,_ he thought.

They made their way through the dense crowd outside, and the need to squeeze through narrow spaces between guests practically required Gendry to press himself against Arya’s back. One particular maneuver made Arya stumble backwards, causing him to grab ahold of her hips to steady her. He took advantage of the opportunity to lean down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the exposed area of her neck he was able to reach. Over the pandemonium, he heard a distinct groan and a breathless, “Fuck.”

The pair reached the door, the last obstacle between them and the staircase, and he heard Arya groan again for an entirely different reason.

“Hi, Jon. Bye, Jon,” she muttered, brushing past her older brother.

Gendry wondered bitterly if the man ever left that bloody doorway.

“Woah, where’s the fire, kid?”

“Uhh,” Arya stammered. “Rickon asked us to get him a glass of water as soon as we could. We were already headed this way to get ourselves refills. Said something about ‘needing to sober up.’”

“What?!”

“Yeah, man, I don’t know. He’s outside. Don’t tell him I told you,” Arya called over her shoulder, as she continued to pull Gendry along.

Gendry watched Jon sprint out the front door, and he looked down at Arya, amused.

She shrugged. “He owes me one. I covered for him when he skipped school last week to play paintball with Theon and his dumb friends.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” he replied, pushing her forward by the small of her back.

They continued through the throng in the foyer and reached the foot of the staircase. Arya did a quick scan of the crowd for any potential witnesses, and began her ascent, hand still firmly wrapped around Gendry’s wrist, when they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Enjoying the party?” Sansa asked sarcastically, leaning against the wall behind them. She stood in a huddle with the man Gendry recognized as Arya’s grisly boss - whose glare he pointedly avoided - and two others he didn’t know. _And all four of them can fuck right off._

“I just realized I hadn’t shown Gendry the view from the upstairs balcony.”

“Mhm. It’s quite something,” the redhead retorted, turning her attention to him with a raised brow.

“Yeah, so we’re just gonna...” Arya trailed off awkwardly, turning to continue up the stairs, Gendry still silently in tow.

“Make sure you’re careful!” her sister called after them. “You know, on the balcony.”

“Yep, got it! Thanks, asshole!”

They finally reached the top landing, and Arya breathed a sigh of relief when they made it past the wall that blocked the view of the floor below. She leaned against it and pulled Gendry down to her level by the leather straps across his chest, initiating a heated kiss, as she snaked her arms around the back of his neck.

His hands automatically flew to grab her tightly by the cinch in her waist, moaning at the contact. He slid one hand frantically up her torso, pausing to knead at the swell of her breast under the thick material of her costume. She gasped into his mouth, threading her fingers desperately through his hair and pulling him impossibly closer.

“Too many layers,” Gendry murmured between kisses. “What the fuck were we thinking?”

“I mean,” Arya panted. “I was definitely thinking it would have this effect. Didn’t really think - _fuck_,” she moaned, as he nipped at her earlobe and continued his ministrations down the column of her neck. “Didn’t really think the rest through.”

Gendry laughed into the crook of her neck, feeling her shiver at the added sensation of his breath. Returning to the urgent task at hand, he blindly reached his right hand out to feel for the doorknob of the room next to them.

“What are you doing?” Arya asked, opening her eyes for the first time in several minutes and looking hazily up at him.

“I don’t know, I figured you might wanna do this in a bed.”

“You figured right, but thinking about doing this in _Robb’s_ bed makes me wish I were dead.”

“Well, where’s yours then?” he asked, frenetically looking down the long hallway in front of them.

“Up one more flight of stairs and around the corner.”

He cursed aloud and ran a frenzied hand through his disheveled hair. He hungrily looked her up and down before taking in their surroundings one more time.

“Anyone up here that might see us?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Great,” he determined, as he grabbed her wrist and bent down to press his shoulder into her stomach, unceremoniously hoisting her over it and holding onto her ankles.

“Gendry!” she yelled, as he darted toward the stairway at the end of the hall, as though she weighed nothing. He thought he had the upper hand for a split second before she started reaching around his middle to work on his belt buckle, as she dangled upside down against his back.

He picked up the pace when he made it to the small flight of steps and whipped around the corner at the top.

“Here?” he prayed.

“We have a winner,” she answered, as he deposited her back onto the ground. “Pick me up like that again, though, and I’ll bite you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“I really walked into that one, but I’m way too turned on to care,” she exhaled, twisting the doorknob and pulling Gendry into her room by the waistband of his pants.

Arya pushed him flat against the door as it shut behind him, resuming her work on his belt. He threw his head back against the wood when she yanked it off, and he wound his hands around her neck to unfasten the ties of her costume’s upper half.

They both fumbled with each other’s intricate ensembles, ripping knots forcefully undone as they loosened. Once he discarded Arya’s topmost layer, revealing a form-fitting camisole, he momentarily gave up trying to divest her of more clothing and, instead, sought her forehead with his own. He vaguely felt like he had lost all control of his limbs, as she extricated the last of his buckles and tore off his cape and vest, leaving him in a sleeveless undershirt. They both laughed breathlessly into their next kiss in spite of themselves.

“How on earth,” Gendry heaved, “did those sad sacks in medieval times do it?”

“I’m wearing a onesie next year. I’ll sacrifice the sex appeal for the promise of one measly zipper,” Arya agreed.

The prospect of a ‘next year’ spurred him further into action. He pressed a feverish kiss to her lips, tore off his arm cuffs, and moved to make quick work of his boots. She took the opportunity to do the same, and he ogled at her as she peeled the leather down and brought her thigh-high tights with it, revealing bare, toned legs underneath her skirt. They kicked their footwear aside, and he reached out to pull her by the garment’s elastic band. Her hands flew up to land against the planes of his chest and she ran them down to the hem of his shirt to pull it up his stomach. Gendry couldn’t seem to make up his mind between gripping her thighs under her skirt or pushing down the straps of her tank top, but before he could choose, his movements were interrupted by a low growl.

He started to chuckle, thinking the noise came from Arya, but the rapid turn of her head cut him off. He heard her gasp in surprise before bending over with laughter herself.

“Oh, my gods. Nymeria.”

Gendry’s eyes widened. He had met Arya’s dog the day before, and, after a few minutes of reassurance that she was not actually a wolf, he had felt comfortable enough to get close to her. Nymeria lived to serve and protect Arya, who had been appropriately overcome that her trusted bodyguard was allowing a complete stranger to scratch her behind her ears.

~

_“Nymeria, what is the point of ‘training to kill’ if you’re just gonna give it up to the first cute boy you meet, hm?”_

_The dog let out a grumble and closed her eyes contentedly, as Gendry continued his rubs down the back of her head and under her chin. _

_“I think I need a new security detail. This is bullshit.”_

_“I think she just knows I’m not a threat.”_

_“You’re a threat, alright. A threat to my sanity.”_

_“You love it.”_

_“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Waters.”_

_~_

That interaction had been innocent. Now, though, with his hands decidedly resting at the swell of Arya’s hips, his tongue having been in her mouth not five seconds before, Gendry thought he probably seemed _very_ much like a threat.

“Oh, _now_ you’re gonna act all tough? This is Gendry, silly. You remember Gendry,” Arya cooed, moving slowly toward her dog, hand in front of her. Gendry mourned the loss of contact but figured he would mourn the loss of a limb a bit more, so he opted for silence.

“Shh, it’s okay, girl,” Arya calmed, as Nymeria continued to bare her teeth at Gendry. “Let’s get you outside before you completely fuck this up for me.” She continued to move across the floor toward the dog and swiftly grabbed her by the collar, leading her toward the double doors on the far wall. Through the glass, Gendry could make out the furnishings of a cozy balcony, complete with outdoor accommodations for Nymeria.

“Alright, theeeere we go, that’s it,” Arya sang, as she guided the pup out the doors. Nymeria seemed to know the drill, as she went straight for the dog bed and curled up to sleep.

Arya latched the doors shut, drew the curtains closed to shield the outside from view, and turned back to face Gendry apologetically. The two were now standing on opposite ends of the room, enough distance between them to allow for slow, raking gazes over each other’s half-dressed forms. Gendry wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but before he could blink, they had met in the middle, directly at the foot of Arya’s bed. His shirt was the first of the last to go, Arya stepping back to appreciate the sinewy ridges of his abdomen and biting her bottom lip. Her eyes hovered over the tattoo on his right pectoral, and she smirked admiringly. She reached down to tug up her own shirt, and Gendry’s mouth went slack at the sight of her bare stomach. He brought his hands forward to push the straps of her bralette off her shoulders without removing the garment entirely, and he used his grip on her upper arms to pull her closer to him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, down to the space between her breasts. She shuddered when his hands moved from her shoulders to her tits, his mouth still working on the valley between them, the lace fabric providing minimal barrier. He squeezed her mounds and moved them in opposing circles, before his thumbs jutted out to flick her nipples through the thin material.

“_Shit,_” she blurted out, letting out a breath that she must have been holding for a while. Her hands moved to his hair to hold his head in place as he sucked ardent love marks onto her pale skin, and he was at a perfect vantage point to notice that she was practically hyperventilating. Gendry moved one of his hands quickly down to her skirt with the intention of relieving her of it, but, again within a microsecond, he felt himself being spun around so his back faced the head of her bed. Without hesitation, and with seemingly all of the strength she had, Arya shoved him backward, causing him to land squarely on her mattress and catch himself on his elbows, so he could still see her.

His breath caught in his throat as Arya stripped off the last thing blocking his gaze from her breasts, and the unobstructed view of her hardened nipples made him strain desperately harder in his pants than he already was. His eyes roamed over her naked upper half, landing suddenly on a small cluster of scars on the right side of her abdomen. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up at her in silent question.

Brief panic flitted across her features, almost as if she regretted letting him see. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the first one to ever see them in such an intimate setting, or - worse - if another _had_ seen them and had made her feel anything less than perfect. Either way, his sole initiative in that moment became making her feel just that.

“If we ever bloody finish what we’ve started here, I’ll tell you everything you wanna know,” Arya vowed, her confidence returning just as quickly as it had faded.

Gendry continued to stare at her in a daze, his chest rising and falling swiftly. She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow, dropping her hands to the waistband of her skirt.

“What are you waiting for? Take your own bloody pants off.”

It took a few seconds for her words to register, but, once they did, he didn’t think his hands had ever worked quicker. His eyes oscillated between the buttons on his trousers and the woman in front of him, like he was afraid she would vanish into thin air. He raised himself slightly off the mattress by his elbows to give himself room to shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. When he finally looked back at Arya, she was in a similar state, standing before him in nothing but black panties that matched her rejected top undergarment. She quickly flicked her hair over her shoulder and stalked toward him, slowly lifting herself onto the mattress to straddle him. He shuffled backwards to prop himself up on the pile of pillows at the headboard, and she crawled with him, softly placing her hands on the pillows on either side of his head when they reached their destination. Gendry couldn’t see his face, but he imagined it reflected something akin to complete wonderment.

Arya finally bent down to capture his lips, and his entire body thrummed with the sensation of her bare skin on his. He lifted his arms from where they laid feebly at his sides, and his palms splayed across her back, caressing her anywhere he could reach, one eventually coming to rest firmly on the back of her head to hold her in place. Her nipples lightly grazed his chest as she rocked back and forth above him, causing him to moan loudly and nip at her bottom lip. She giggled when he used his leverage across her back to grind her center onto his, and he broke their kiss to exhale roughly, as she continued kissing along his jawline.

“You are,” he managed between deep breaths, “so magnificent.” She continued kissing him. “Resplendent.” She bit down where she could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck. “_So_ fucking hot.”

She laughed into the hollow of his throat and rocked once more against his hardened length. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

“I’ll get a real compliment out of you someday, Stark.”

At that, Arya sat up abruptly, squirming to place all of her weight on his erection and guiding his hands to her breasts. “Guess you’re gonna have to work for it, then.”

Her challenge lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, and he hungrily tweaked her nipples, before moving his hands to her hips and hurriedly flipping her onto her back beneath him. He reveled in her obvious delight and did not hesitate to drift his touch to the waistband of her last remaining article of clothing, propping himself up with his other forearm. The urgency of his kisses down her neck and across her chest contradicted the time he took to slowly slide the garment over the curve of her hips and down her legs as far as he could reach. His mouth reached her left nipple, and he flicked it fervently with his tongue a few times, before latching on completely. The hand that had removed her panties came up to tease the other nub, and he felt more than heard the low rumble that emitted from Arya’s chest at the added sensation, her hands grasping at the locks of his hair.

With one less barrier of clothing between them, Gendry thrusted his cock with even more urgency against her heat, and he could feel the wet spots she left behind on the fabric of his boxers. He looked up from her chest and smirked.

“Anything?”

“That the best you’ve got?” Arya asked breathlessly, her attempt at apathy completely invalidated by her unyielding grip on the back of his head.

“Not nearly,” he replied, returning his mouth to her nipple but moving his hand slowly down her torso to linger above her pelvic bone. He moved it even lower to lightly brush against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, pointedly avoiding the area where he knew she wanted him most. He felt her lift one knee clumsily to kick her underwear off completely from where they sat, still only halfway down her thighs. Now completely naked before him, Arya spread her legs to rest the soles of her feet firmly on either side of him. Only then, with this new access, did Gendry’s fingers drift toward her center. He gingerly slid is index and middle fingers through her dripping folds, and he felt her tremble underneath him.

“Didn’t realize ‘not too shabby’ would make you this wet,” he said, aiming for cockiness but sounding strained with arousal. Arya’s hips began to gyrate in time with the strokes of his fingers, and her hand reached out to clutch at his wrist while he moved against her.

“It’s not…I’m not…you’re…” Arya tried to respond, interrupted by Gendry’s increasingly zealous surges at her opening. “_Gods,_ please. Please.”

“Please, what?” he teased, removing his middle finger and circling one tantalizing digit around her entrance.

“Please, I need…I need…” she trailed off again, unable to keep her eyes open anymore.

“Say it, Stark. I need to hear you say it,” he managed, unsure if he could keep up his restraint much longer. He experimentally dipped the tip of his index finger further into her wetness, and she keened below him.

“I need you to stop pissing me off,” she exhaled quickly, using her grasp on his wrist to push his finger fully inside her. Gendry’s forehead fell down to Arya’s shoulder, and he could practically hear his own heartbeat.

“_Fuck,_ fuck you’re so tight. Holy shit,” he whispered hoarsely, not even pretending to care that he failed to get her to properly beg. He curled his finger inside her, before starting to pump it rhythmically in and out. He tried his best to control his breathing into the crook of her neck, but the sounds she was emitting made that nearly impossible. He felt her tighten even more around his finger as it picked up its pace, and he alternated between bending it inside her and dragging it up to skim her clit.

“More. I need more,” she urged, strengthening her hold on him. He added another finger, and she let out a string of unintelligible noises. “_More_, Gendry.” He cursed under his breath, adding a third, his hand now drenched in the results of his stimulation. The only sounds that filled the room were the wet noises of his hand rutting against her and their combined heavy breathing, and Gendry thought - not for the first time - that he might die if he let her go.

He placed searing kisses on her shoulder, her forehead, her lips, anywhere he could reach, and she moved to slide her hands under the waistband of his boxers, cupping his ass. He needed more than anything to see her come undone.

“Sit on my face,” he moaned frantically into her ear, slowing down his ministrations. He nibbled on her earlobe, and she whined deliriously. “I wanna taste you.”

Arya’s eyes widened, black with desire, and her mouth fell open. She hooked her ankles around his legs and swiftly reversed their positions, his fingers never breaking contact. They both paused to admire each other, and Gendry soaked up every inch of the woman on top of him. Her cheeks were red with lust, various strands of her dark hair adhered to her neck with their combined sweat. Above all else, the look in her eyes - one that he couldn’t begin to know how to categorize - made his entire body numb. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of recognizable anxiety, the same she wore when he saw her scars.

“I don’t…I’ve never…” she tried, stroking his chest with both hands in an apparent attempt to calm her nerves.

“You’ve never? Or you’ve _never_?”

“I’ve done all of this once,” she gestured between them. “I mean, with one other person,” she corrected. “But this specifically, I’ve never-“

“Hey. Me neither,” he smiled reassuringly, rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs.

“How many have _you_ been with?”

“Really? Right now?”

“Come on, Waters. Spill the tea,” she nudged.

“I didn’t keep count.”

She snorted. “Yes, you did.”

He took a deep breath and gave her an unamused look. “Three.”

Arya smirked triumphantly and shuffled forward, bringing the insides of her knees to rest next to his ears and aligning her cunt directly above his mouth. She looked down, as she reached out to grab onto the top of her headboard. “I don’t really know what I’m doing up here.”

He tore his eyes away from her glistening arousal, the scent nearly knocking him out cold, and grinned. “I think you’re just supposed to enjoy, m’lady.”

“Do _not_ call me - _holy_ fuck,” she moaned, as he interrupted her admonition with his tongue. He planted his hands firmly on her hips to pull her closer, licking a clear path from her entrance to her clit. He lapped on the sensitive nub and felt Arya’s thighs convulse against the sides of his head. Moaning against her, he basked in her pleasure and slid one hand up her torso to palm her breast and roll her nipple between his fingers, not taking his eyes off of her for a second. She purred desperately and dropped from her hands to rest her forearms across the headboard, leaning her forehead against them with her eyes closed. Her face contorted with bliss, and he increased the speed of his tongue.

“Right there. Gods, yes,” she pleaded, moving a hand down to card through his hair. Gendry moved his tongue down to her opening, tracing small circles before plunging it inside of her. His slightly lower position directly aligned the bridge of his nose with her clit, and he started to measuredly shake his head to stimulate both areas at once, still maintaining his movements on her nipple. Her fingers began to move more frantically through his hair, and her hips started to rut erratically against his face. Gendry had closed his eyes to focus on the tanginess of her arousal, but they flew open when he heard her breathing start to accelerate.

“Gendry, I’m gonna…Please, I’m so close…” she mewled. He had finally gotten her to beg, and that did it for him. He increased his speed, feverishly rocking his head against her, as he sent her over the edge. She cried out loudly, trying and failing to muffle the sound in the crook of her arm, and he held her firmly, keeping up his movements until she finished. Slowly, her hips stopped their back-and-forth motion, and she lifted herself from his mouth, eyes still closed. Her legs started to quiver from her efforts to steady herself above him, and he slid out from under her to roll onto his side, gently pulling her by the waist to lay down next to him. Arya settled onto her side to face him and draped her arm over his middle, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m supposed to believe you’ve _never_ done that before?” came her muted voice. His chest rumbled with laughter, as his hand came up to rest in her hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she hummed contentedly.

“Is that my compliment?” he japed. She quickly shook her head, pulling back to look him in the eyes. It was the first time he’d been able to take in her face properly since before she had climbed on top of him, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She was stunning. Her eyes held a tranquility that he hadn’t seen before, her whole demeanor typically fierce and stormy, in all of the best ways. Now, she looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. _Soft_, he thought. _She looks so soft._

Her position mirrored his, both still facing each other, heads propped up by one hand. Her arm around his waist tightened, and she took a deep breath. “You are the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

He smiled so widely, he thought his cheeks might tear. “You stole my line,” he teased, recalling what he told her on the night of their first kiss.

“I’m just here to report the facts.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Magnificent. _Resplendent_,” she said with a wink.

“And?”

She rolled her eyes but slowly glided her hand from the small of his back to ghost over his rigid length through his boxers, which he could hardly believe he hadn’t already ripped to shreds. “And _so_ fucking hot,” she whispered, flicking her thumb over his wet tip.

His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply, and he closed his eyes as she pulled the garment off his hips, helping her by lifting his side briefly off the mattress. He kicked the underwear fully off, much like she had done with hers before, as her hand returned to wrap around him. His cock stood rigid and flush against the muscles of his abdomen, and he didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, until she started to move her hand up and down. She twisted her hand at its base, and she moved to push him onto his back, not ceasing her rhythm. Slowly, kneeling beside him, she started pressing smoldering kisses to his chest, leaning over to playfully bite his nipple and causing him to yelp in surprise. He nearly choked when he realized her intentions, as her mouth languidly made its way down his stomach, using her free hand to push his legs apart, so she could kneel between them.

“Arya, you don’t have to,” he managed, struggling to stop himself from tugging her by the hair and thrusting into her mouth, which now hovered above his erection.

“I wanna taste you,” she mimicked, winking diabolically before darting her tongue out to sample him. His eyes all but rolled into the back of his head, as she crooned and took him fully in. Remembering how he had longed for eye contact when she was writhing on top of him, he chanced a look down at her and was met with her grey eyes locked intently onto his. She slowly lowered her lips down his shaft, inviting as much of him as she could fit, before swallowing around him.

“Oh, my fucking - _ugh._ Arya, please,” he growled, as she began bobbing her head up and down. Her hand danced down to fondle his balls, as she released him with a pop and licked one final stripe up his length.

“Please, what?” she sang.

He tightened his jaw. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” she asked with mock curiosity, tilting her head and squinting her eyes playfully. He decided he’d had about enough her game, as he surged forward to hook his arms under her shoulders and throw her onto the mattress beneath him again. He nipped, kissed, sucked voraciously down her neck, producing high-pitched, _distinctly _un-Arya-like squeals, as he lined himself up at her entrance. And just as quickly as he had tossed her down, both of their movements simultaneously came to a screeching halt. They gaped at each other, both silently hoping that the other would have the correct answer to the unspoken question.

“I don’t have…Do you-“

“No, and I’m not on…we need-“

“Holy fuck.”

“Shit. _Shit,_” Arya repeated, scrambling out from under Gendry and sitting upright, legs tucked under her. “Don’t guys just have those on them?!”

“What, like, you think we walk around, thinking _any_ moment could be the moment?” he sputtered.

“Kind of!”

“Oh, my gods,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands, willing himself to calm down, so he wouldn’t throw complete caution to the wind and forget about the potential consequences.

“I think Jon has some. I’ll go run and grab one. Worse comes to worst, I’ll call in my favor from Theon,” Arya rambled wildly, standing up and fumbling over to her closet for something to wear into the hallway.

“Does everyone owe you a favor, or what?”

“Do you wanna get into _that_ right now?” she huffed, producing a robe from behind the door and tying it quickly.

“No, I wanna get into _that_ right now,” he bit back, gesturing toward her.

“Two minutes. I’m so, so sorry,” she apologized profusely, running over to plant a quick kiss on his lips before embarking on her mission.

“What the fuck is my life,” Gendry muttered to himself, as she shut the door behind her.

___

Arya could hear the rumblings of the party still going strong two levels below, as she moved swiftly down the dark hallway. She could get to Jon’s room with her eyes closed - she and Bran and Rickon used to sneak out past bedtime all the time as kids, so their older brother could teach them the self-defense maneuvers he’d learned from wrestling practice. When she had gotten older and needed someone to talk to, she would tiptoe past her parents’ room, which was right next to hers, to talk to Jon into the late hours of the night. She always prayed that he would be in his room and not occupied somewhere else. Now, her prayers could not be more opposite.

She was going over her nimble execution plan in her head, when she rounded the corner and slammed directly into someone coming from the other direction.

“Shit, Arya. I almost just pissed myself.”

“What are _you_ doing up here?” Arya asked, stepping back to quirk an amused eyebrow at her sister, whose room was on the floor below and whose current outfit bore a striking resemblance to Arya’s.

“I would imagine the same thing _you’re_ doing up here,” Sansa challenged, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Arya paused briefly to consider the situation and then raised her hand for a high-five. “Love that for us, honestly.”

“This is one of our top three strangest moments,” Sansa snorted, slapping her sister’s palm.

“I take it Jon’s downstairs then?”

“I texted Marg, and she had eyes on him outside, like, two minutes ago.”

“Perfect,” Arya asserted, opening his bedroom door. She made a beeline for Jon’s bedside table and rummaged through its contents, Sansa shifting awkwardly behind her. “I do love that we both decided to take advantage of the same brother, though.”

“Well, our other options were ‘no need for birth control,’ sixteen, and Robb.”

“Fair enough. Ha!” Arya cheered, pulling a lightweight box out of the drawer. _Too lightweight_, she thought. Dumping its contents, one sole condom, onto Jon’s bed, the sisters stood frozen.

“This cannot be happening.”

“Should we flip a coin?” Arya suggested, feeling more and more desperate to get back to Gendry with each passing second. She thought about how she had left him, a panting, sweaty mess on her rumpled comforter, and her heart swelled. There was no way this night was over. Arya Stark did not lose.

“Well, shit, I guess so,” Sansa replied, throwing her hands up in frustration. “What happens to the loser?”

“Loser has to go interrupt Theon.”

“Also known as my worst nightmare. Fantastic.”

“Sansa, truly, this is so much fun. I’m having a blast. But I am _genuinely_ about to lose my mind,” Arya said, returning frantically to the drawer to find a piece of spare change. She breathed a sigh of relief when she located one, and she brought it up to her eye level, balancing it on the top of her thumb.

“Heads or tails?”

“Heads, obviously,” Sansa responded instantly. Arya closed her eyes and flipped the coin, praying to every single god she could think of. When she heard it land with a soft thud on the carpet at their feet, both sisters bent down to examine the results.

“_Fuck_, yes! ‘Obviously,’ huh?” Arya winked, the visible back of the coin signifying her victory.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Sansa grumbled, as they stood back up. “You owe me. Like, I can’t even begin to tell you how much you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” she placated, grabbing her prize and pecking her sister quickly on the cheek, as she moved toward the door to the finish line. “Good luck, buttercup. Seriously, we should do this again sometime.”

“I will be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you for the next several days.”

“Love you!” Arya called over her shoulder, thinking nebulously that she might, possibly, feel bad about this later. _Definitely later, though._

___

She essentially sprinted back to her bedroom, flinging the door open to see Gendry standing with his back to her, looking closely at the photos above her desk. The image of him standing across the room, completely naked and waiting for her, juxtaposed with various fixtures from her childhood, made her stifle a giggle. He turned around at the sound of her entrance, and he smirked when she held up the spoils of her battle.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he asked, the affection in his eyes as she removed her robe completely negating the harshness of his words.

“I had to pry this out of Sansa’s cold, dead hands.”

“You had to _what_?“ he stammered. She laughed and tossed the condom onto her bed, moving to stand next to him by her desk. He pulled her in by her waist so that her back was flush against his chest, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the skin behind her ear.

“Don’t worry. She’s not gonna say anything,” she whispered, sighing as he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. Now that she was closer, she looked up at the pictures he had been examining. “See anything you like?” she asked sarcastically, knowing full well that none of the photos on that bulletin board were the least bit flattering.

“I think she’s gorgeous,” he muttered, pointing to a photo of her posing with her father in front of her Jeep on the day she bought it. She had been sixteen, and she still hadn’t developed any of what little curves she currently had. Peak awkward phase.

“And she is a vision,” he continued, gesturing toward another picture of her with her mother and Aunt Lysa during a family trip to the Vale, the summer before she had turned eighteen. She had gotten braces embarrassingly late into her teenage years, and they were on full display in that photograph. She blushed a little and winced, looking down at her feet.

“And _seven hells._ That one is a knockout.” Her twenty-first birthday party last fall, and a rare image of her in a dress. She was front and center, surrounded by her whole family, and it was one of the last group photos they ever took before the accident that stole away her parents a month later. She looked closely at the smile she wore in the picture, and she felt her heart flutter when she realized she was finally starting to recognize that girl in the mirror again.

“I can’t believe you’re about to make me cry when I just _fought_ to the _death_ for you.”

“This is now the second time you’ve referenced Sansa being dead, and I just would like a quick confirmation that she’s not.”

Arya craned her neck to turn her face toward his, drawing him into an unhurried kiss. She felt him smile against her lips, and she spun around to face him, bringing her hands forward to massage his chest.

“Relax.”

“I’ve just never met someone who jokes about murder so much.”

She scoffed. “You must know some pretty boring people, then.”

“You’re definitely the most interesting person I know.”

“‘Interesting?’ That’s what people call someone when they don’t wanna say ‘weird.’”

“Well, you’re weird, too, if that helps.”

“You love it,” she said with a knowing wink.

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Stark.” Arms still wrapped around her waist, he drew her in for another, more heated kiss. She smirked when she felt him start to harden against her stomach again, and, without breaking the kiss, she walked him back to her bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress. She pushed him down by his shoulders to sit and climbed over his hips to straddle him, grinding her center against his as a result.

“You know what _is_ weird, though?” she asked, as he buried his face in her chest and moved his hands back and forth from her hips to her back.

“Hmm.”

“This doesn’t feel weird.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he replied, moving his mouth to her nipple.

Arya closed her eyes and lolled her head back, exposing her neck. “No, I just mean…”

He lifted his head inquisitively, scrunching his brows in unvoiced question.

“I mean, you said it the other day. It feels like I’ve known you for years. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.”

“Does that scare you?”

She shook her head. “Should it, though?”

“You tell me,” Gendry said, pulling one of her hands from the back of his neck to place a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. Surprises usually do scare me. And you haven’t.”

“I like to think I’m all bark and no bite,” he answered with a dopy smile.

Arya rolled her eyes. “Just, thank you, I guess. For being you. I wanna keep you around, if that’s alright.”

“As you wish, m’lady.” He kissed her again, for the hundredth time that night, this one drawing forth a foreign feeling in her chest that she couldn’t ignore if she tried. If anything were going to scare to her, that would be it. But in Gendry’s embrace, she knew she was the safest she’d ever been.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he drew her bottom lip between his teeth when she tugged lightly on his dark locks. She giggled and pulled back.

“What was that about ‘no bite’?” she asked playfully, slowly shepherding him back to lean against her headboard.

“No idea what you mean,” he flirted, grabbing the backs of her thighs to bring her deeper into his lap. He nibbled her again, this time on her earlobe, and let out a low moan when she reached between them to stroke him. He ran an experimental finger down her torso to slide through her folds, and they both sighed harmoniously at how wet she was.

Arya reached aimlessly behind her and felt around for the package she had tossed aside earlier, grinning victoriously when she found it. She tore the silver wrapper open with her teeth, as his fingers continued to move against her, and she rolled the condom over him.

He shivered when she lifted herself up onto her knees to brush herself against the tip of his cock. She opened her mouth to say something but realized, for the first time since meeting Gendry, she was at a loss for words. No line of banter she could have produced would have been enough to convey her feelings. She liked a healthy back-and-forth with the people she loved. Mockery was how she showed she cared, but actions spoke louder than words for a reason. _'L__oved'?_

She took a deep breath and lowered herself slowly over his hard length, moving even more gradually to accommodate his size.

“_Gods,_ you feel so good,” he exhaled, eyes screwed shut and fingers digging so hard into her hips, she was sure she would bruise. She continued her descent, leaning forward to softly kiss his eyelids, until she finally hit the tops of his thighs. Only then did he look at her. _Beautiful,_ she thought fondly_. _

“You alright?” he asked between gritted teeth.

“More than,” she gasped. Her arms snaked around his neck, as she lifted herself halfway up before sitting back down, a bit more forcefully. “You feel amazing.”

“Another compliment,” he beamed, bucking deeper into her. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Why can’t we ever shut the fuck up?” Gendry laughed, moving his hands to caress her backside while she moved over him.

Arya chuckled and twisted her hips slightly on her next downward thrust. “Go on, then. Shut me up.”

She yelped when he flipped her once more onto her back, this time with nothing standing in their way. He held himself above her with his forearms framing her face and pushed even deeper into her from the new angle, his forehead dropping down in ecstasy to meet hers. She whined beneath him, as the speed of his thrusts began to increase, and she lifted his chin to capture his lips.

“_Yes,_ right there. Don’t stop,” she begged, causing him to mumble a sequence of expletives. He reached one arm down while he pumped, and hooked it around the back of her knee, slinging her leg over his shoulder and spreading her wider. She exclaimed loudly and threw her head back, allowing him room to kiss down her neck. “Shit, shit, shit,” she chanted in time with his advances. She could feel Gendry’s breath hitch every time her walls contracted around him, and she brought her hands down to his hips to help propel him back and forth.

“Arya,” he whispered, continuing to drive into her. She decided her name had never sounded better than it did coming out of his mouth. “_Arya_,” he repeated more desperately, his movements starting to falter. His hand flew between them to rub circles on her clit, and she thought she might explode. “I need you to come with me,” he urged. “Please.”

She nodded wildly and held onto him tighter, her breathing becoming shallower with each stroke. A warmth began to pool in the depths of her stomach, as he hit a spot inside her that made her toes curl. “There, there, again,” she whimpered. He hit it again, and she saw stars. Forcing herself to keep her eyes open so she could see his face, she surrendered and let her second orgasm wash over her, feeling impossibly hot and cold all at once. The sound of her release seemed to drive him over the edge, as his hips jerked twice more, and he came right along with her. She reached up to cup his face while he rode out his pleasure, and she moved her thumbs along his cheekbones, as he opened his eyes.

He looked down at her panting, a few stray locks of his hair stuck to his forehead and his deep, blue eyes half-lidded. The smiles on their faces grew brighter, as they took each other in. She’d seen what she thought was every possible version of a smile from him in the last two weeks - playful, smug, lopsided (only when he was caught off-guard), the one where she could tell he was nervous but was doing his best to push through the pain. And yet, none compared to the one he gave her now. He looked at her like she had hung the moon, and it knocked the wind out of her.

He bent down to kiss her softly on the lips, then on the tip of her nose, followed by a smattering of places across her face. His kisses became erratic, until he was practically smothering her with frisky pecks anywhere he could reach. She pretended to try to escape his attacks, turning her face rapidly from side to side and crying out like a child being tickled.

“Please, please tell me we don’t have to go back to the party,” Gendry said, placing a final kiss on her forehead before ceasing fire.

“We should probably make one more appearance. Mostly because I’m starving.”

He snorted and moved to pull out of her, causing her to moan once more at the loss of contact. He got up to dispose of the condom in the trashcan next to her desk, as she sat up and brought her knees to her chest.

“You mean to tell me that I actually have to put my costume back on?

“No, why would you do that? You’ve done all the heavy lifting I require for the evening,” she added with a wink.

“You weigh, like, seven pounds, Stark,” he retorted. “And what do you suggest I wear instead? I didn’t exactly pack an overnight bag.”

“You really didn’t think you’d be sleeping over?”

“No.”

“Aww. That’s adorable.”

“Clothes, Arya.”

She laughed, standing up to move toward her closet. “You’re in luck. I was a boy for Halloween _last_ year, and I kept the hoodie and gym shorts to sleep in. I practically swim in them, so they should fit you just fine.” She foraged through her closet for the items and tossed them in his direction over her back.

“Isn’t this gonna be way too obvious?” he asked, slipping into the garments, as she pulled on a pair of leggings and a Winterfell Direwolves sweatshirt. Arya did her best to ignore how cozy he looked in the baggy material, so she wasn’t tempted to throw him back down onto her bed and cuddle him to death.

“It’s, like, almost midnight. Everyone’s probably pissed out of their minds.” She strode over to stand in front of him and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. “Besides, if anyone has a problem with my boyfriend, they’ll have to go through me.”

The look in his eyes was like magic.

___

“You’ve _never_ had s’mores before?” Sansa practically shrieked.

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe.”

Gendry and Arya were seated around the fire pit in the mansion’s backyard, stomachs sufficiently full of hard cider, burgers, and homemade snack mix. Gendry thought he might die if he ingested any more food, but Arya seemed pretty insistent on feeding him this one last thing.

“Arya, make the boy a s’more. I command it,” Robb slurred. He seemed to get extra regal when he was drunk.

“Here, stupid,” she said, grabbing a roasting stick with one hand and a marshmallow with the other. She constructed the treat from where she sat in his lap, while he waited patiently for her to finish. She practically shoved it in his mouth, and he nipped one of her fingers on purpose when he took a bite.

“Well?"

“S’sticky,” he mumbled with his mouth full. She laughed at his expression, as he figured out whether he liked it or not. He swallowed dramatically and smiled wide enough to show all of his teeth, melted chocolate smeared across them, as well as around his lips.

“You’ve got a little somethin’,” she teased.

He closed his mouth briefly to run his tongue over his teeth, bringing back the same broad smile. He was still a chocolatey mess, and he knew it.

“Ok, you got it.” She yelled when he pinned her tighter onto his lap and tried to spread the mess onto her cheek.

From across the fire, he heard similar giggles coming from Ygritte where she was sprawled on top of Jon. Like Arya and Gendry, and every other couple there, they seemed to be in their own little world. The dark-haired man leaned in to whisper something in his girlfriend’s ear, and Gendry saw her raise a sharp brow. He nudged Arya and directed her attention to the pair. She glanced over at her brother and looked back at Gendry, amused.

“Should we tell him he’s not getting laid tonight?” he whispered, having been filled in on the condom fiasco earlier.

“What fun would that be?”

“Your idea of fun is something else.”

“You seemed to enjoy it before,” she said flirtatiously.

“Alright, everyone,” Jon announced, “We’re off to bed. Another Halloween party in the books. See you all in the morning,” he said with mock aplomb, Ygritte hanging off of him and almost _visibly_ salivating.

“If he can walk in the morning,” Ygritte said cheekily to the group, causing various groans from the other guests. Arya turned to bury her head in Gendry’s neck, partly to avoid Sansa’s knowing glance and partly to hide her own laughter.

“You’re evil, Stark,” he muttered in her ear.

“You love it,” she mumbled against his skin.

He didn’t argue this time.

___

She had done it again. Gendry was her boyfriend now, so there was no reason to try to impress him, but there she lay anyway. In her bed, wrapped in his arms, pretending to like scary movies.

They had retired to her room shortly after the bonfire died down and the last of the guests trickled out, and, after another round of doing _everything_ they could do without a condom, Arya suggested putting on a movie. Gendry advocated for a horror film, ‘to stay in the Halloween spirit, or whatever.’

She thought she had been playing it pretty close to the vest, until a particularly loud jump scare made her yelp and grip his arm so hard, she was sure she had left nail marks. She held her breath and waited for him to make fun of her, but instead he laughed quietly and held her even tighter.

Eventually, the nightmare was over, and the end credits started to roll. She yawned and looked up at Gendry, whose eyes were already on her. It was nearly pitch-black in her room, but the way the projector light softly illuminated his face made her heart flutter. They stared at each other silently, his hand drawing circles on the small of her back, until the credits stopped, and the room went completely dark.

“Wanna go put in the sequel?” he teased. The jig was up.

“No way am I getting out of this position.”

“Can I pretend that’s just because I’m here, and not because it’s dark, and you’re afraid Annabelle is lurking under your bed?”

“If that’s what gets you through the night, Waters” she replied, patting his chest.

“You’ve officially tired me out, anyway,” he conceded. “I’m gonna grab a glass of water. Do you want one?” he asked, making a show of attempting to climb out of bed.

“No, no, no, you’re not going anywhere. I have a bottle of water on the side table.”

“How about a much-later-than midnight snack?”

“_Gendry,_” she whined. “Please stay with me.”

He smirked in surrender, and shuffled down, so his lips could reach the top of her head. Eyes already drifting closed, she felt him press a kiss to her hair, leaving his face there to rest.

“Always,” he whispered. She yielded to sleep with a smile on her face. She could get used to always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that’s a wrap!
> 
> i would love to continue writing in this particular universe bc modern gendrya is my kryptonite (if that wasn’t obvious) - but i don’t necessarily have, like, a specific plot/storyline i want to explore? i’m much more likely to do little one/two-shots w mini plots that all take place in this same world w these same characterizations. all of this to say, if there’s an interest in these stories continuing, and/or if there is something specific you would wanna see from this depiction of gendrya, pleeeease let me know! (arya’s bday IS coming up in this universe, just throwing that out there, mainly bc i may already have a vague idea for that lol). 
> 
> otherwise, i have other ideas i’m kicking around for different AUs (would love to try my hand at the iconic enemies to friends to lovers, but need to figure out the right setting) (the big dream is to do a multi-chapter modern setting/cross country road trip au). (i have like 6 different one-shot ideas floating around). either way more is coming. can of worms has officially been BUSTED the heck open. thank you all again for reading and for making my return to fic-writing nothing short of spectacular.
> 
> i am lightninginabottle0613 on tumblr :)


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